


Pretty Lady in the Library with a Book

by sleapyGazelle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 08:19:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17956967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleapyGazelle/pseuds/sleapyGazelle
Summary: Prompt: "Two peeps going out for ice cream or to the bookstore and just being cute."





	Pretty Lady in the Library with a Book

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PattonSherlo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PattonSherlo/gifts).



> I took a little liberty with the bookstore and made it a library, just to fit the characterization I was going for. I hope you enjoy!

> Seeing her cross-legged on his bed seemed to spark something in his eyes. He sat beside her gingerly, as if afraid of shattering the moment.
> 
> The silence grew heavy with anticipation. How long had she waited for this— _hoped_ for it?
> 
> He leaned in, slowly but undeniably. Interrupting him was the last thing she wanted to do, but the best part of her last four years made her speak.
> 
> She gathered the front of his shirt in loose fists and whispered, mere inches away now, “Will I lose you if we do this?”
> 
> He blinked and—

~*~*~*~*~

> Allow me, dear reader, to tell you about that fateful—

~*~*~*~*~

> The day was glum, slightly overcast. The street was lined with extremely old trees, each a different height. The trunks had deep grooves in the bark that appeared rough as sandpaper. The trees’ leaves looked ready to drop at any moment.
> 
> The ground below was littered with nettles, among which tiny insects burrowed. They seemed at first like cockroaches, but their legs ended in tiny hands—

~*~*~*~*~

> Lupita stood at least a head above an average woman, with hair like the midnight sky and skin like a mocha latte—more mocha than latte.
> 
> Carlton stood transfixed, watching her as she moved gracefully across the room, her chest—

* * *

 

Sally groaned as she slammed yet another book back on its shelf.

“Looking for anything in particular?”

She turned at the sound of the soft voice behind her. A woman stood there looking mildly amused.

Sally thought she felt a bit more embarrassed than the situation called for. “Oh, do you work here?” she asked.

The woman shook her head, raising the book in her hand to display the cover. “Just checking out a book I've had my eye on for a while. This is the last available copy.” She pointed at the spot where Sally’s rejected book had buried itself in a small cloud of dust. “I noticed that one didn't quite hold your interest.”

Sally grimaced at the renewed thought of it. “I should've known that blind-browsing would be a bad way to pick my next book.”

“What kind of books are you into?”

Sally cast a look about the shelves and shrugged. She was in the contemporary fiction area of the library, but all she wanted was to find a book that told an honest story without any bullshit.

She looked at the woman standing a few paces away. Her warm brown eyes shone with some inside joke that drew inexplicable heat to Sally’s face. Since when did people strike up conversation in libraries? Not talking was the whole point.

When it was clear Sally wasn't going to offer an answer beyond the shrug, the woman held out the book she'd been clutching. “Well, if you need a rec…”

Sally raised her eyebrows. “Didn't you just say you were trying to get that book yourself for a while?”

The stranger smiled wryly. “To be honest, I already know what happens.”

“Friends spoil it for you?”

“Something like that.” She was still holding out her arm. “I haven't checked out yet, so you can go ahead.”

Unsure how this conversation was still going on, Sally took the book. The cover art was an abstract pattern in pastel hues. Sally was already skeptical. She was about to turn it around to read the synopsis on the back when the woman cleared her throat. “I hope you like the writing better than those anyway;” she gestured at the shelf Sally had been browsing fruitlessly.

Sally sighed. “Maybe I'm just too picky.”

“You don't really believe that.”

She shook her head. “No, you're right.”

The corners of the stranger’s mouth turned up, and Sally returned the grin without meaning to.

“So, this has been a bit weird, but thanks for the rec.” Sally flipped through the thin pages without taking anything in. What was she doing taking reading advice from an awkward stranger?

“No problem! Hope you don't hate it. See you around maybe.”

Sally looked up at that, just as the woman was turning to leave. “Do you come here often?” she asked, genuinely curious.

There was a pause before the answer. “I used to, and then I kind of stopped. But now, maybe that might change.”

Sally couldn't hold back a scoff. Was that supposed to mean something to her? “Right. Well, nice to meet you, I suppose, er…”

“Molly.”

“Molly. I'm Sally.”

“Happy reading, Sally.” And she walked away.

The sound of her own name on the stranger's—Molly's—tongue sounded oddly musical. With a resigned sigh, Sally looked down at the book in her hands. Paisley Sessions by Molly Hooper.

Oh. _Oh._ Oh no.

* * *

 

Molly stared at the vast white board of menu options until she nearly made herself dizzy.

How could a single shop come up with so many creative flavor descriptors, and yet give almost no information about the actual flavors?

She'd just decided on “Glacial Rush”—more out of a need to get out of the line than the name’s appeal factor—when she spotted a familiar face. A tall black woman, curls framing her stunning face, had just walked in the door. She was currently rolling her eyes at the long line, and Molly said a silent thank you to herself that Sally hadn’t seen her at the front holding up the line.

She grabbed her cup of suspiciously sky blue ice cream over the glass counter and turned her back to where Sally was taking her place at the back of the queue. Molly didn’t want to walk out now, because then Sally would definitely see her. And she didn’t want to approach because she’d been awkward enough during their first encounter. Molly cringed at the memory and stepped away to find a seat facing the wall.

Molly dug into the ice cream, eventually getting lost in what had turned out to be blueberry flavor. She’d gotten about halfway through when someone came up beside her with a confident “Molly Hooper?”

Molly swallowed too fast and struggled not to visibly cringe at the freezing lump burning in her throat. _That_ was a voice she recognized immediately. “Hi! Um, Sally, right?” she said, as if she didn’t fully remember.

But the attempt at playing it casual seemed to work, and Sally nodded. “Yeah. Do you mind?” She pointed at the empty stool next to Molly, sitting down before Molly could say it was okay. “I read _Paisley Sessions_.”

She paused long enough for Molly to attempt an encouraging nod and wonder whether she was about to get a live Goodreads review.

“I liked it!” Sally sounded surprised and Molly laughed.

“Well I appreciate you sticking with it.”

For the first time since Molly met her, Sally looked embarrassed. “I feel like you think I’m some kind of snob. I just…I'm tired of books that try too hard.”

Molly could honestly relate. “Trust me, I tried so hard to not come across as trying too hard.”

That pulled a genuine laugh from Sally, and the warmth that filled Molly at the sound carried them through the next few minutes of comfortably casual conversation.

Turned out Sally had been drawn to the intricacy of _Paisley Sessions_ ’ plot, while the prose style kept her turning pages.

Molly was only taking in about half the words coming her way; the rest of her mind was on whether or not to take a risk.

It was when Sally's eyes slipped closed at a particularly delicious mouthful of her mint chocolate chip that Molly decided to go for it.

“Would you want to go out for dinner sometime?”

Sally paused, mouth stilling around her spoonful, before swallowing and nodding. “Yeah, that would be fun! I haven’t eaten out in a while—trying to save money. Being a detective isn't very lucrative, as I'm sure you know. But this'll be a good excuse to cheat.” She resumed savoring her ice cream.

Molly colored slightly, clearing her throat, and clarifying, “No, I mean _go out_...”

Sally nodded. “Oh, we’ll go out all right. There’s a little French restaurant I’ve been meaning to check out. Would you want to go there?”

There was something about Sally’s tone that suggested they weren’t on the same page. Or was Molly missing something? She groaned inwardly, even as she became even more certain of her decision. “I’m asking you out on a date!” she blurted, all subtlety abandoned.

Sally’s hand froze in mid air, spoon halfway to her mouth. It would have been comical, had Molly not been anxiously holding her breath.

“Oh.”

In that one syllable, Molly thought speaking up might have been a mistake after all. But then Sally continued, and suddenly _she_ was the one tripping over her own words.

“I wondered if that’s what you meant, but I didn’t know you were also… I mean I didn’t want to assume… Well, yeah, I… Yes…”

Molly grinned so wide her cheeks hurt. “Nice.”

This was going to be interesting.


End file.
